I Decided to Surprise Remus
by PaulaMcG
Summary: Forced to stay in Remus’s room on a hot day during the first week after Voldemort has risen again (at the end of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire), Sirius remembers a winter night when he came to visit his friend.


I Decided to Surprise Remus

It's unbearably hot in here. I can't stand staying locked inside. Especially not in this room with nothing to do. It's not exactly small but practically empty. And no less miserable than that winter night.

At least I've got to open one of these big windows. Good I learnt to do it without a wand. Remus took his with him, of course. Better never go anywhere without a wand, least of all to the muggle world. He may even have a chance to use it, when nobody notices, and finish the labour more easily. It must be too hard work for him anyway. But I'm not allowed to go anywhere at all. Maybe when Dumbledore gets a new wand for me. No, I know it's not that. I was out there, wandless, for almost two years. We're just doing what he tells us to do. Now lie low and wait for the Order to get together.

Okay, I have to concentrate on this now. What a stupid idea to have the whole south wall all windows. This one will open now... Alohomora! Yes, I'm a genius. Learnt that on my own, too. Now I can sit down here on the window sill. What a breeze. We are really high up here. Nice view over this shabby stinking neighbourhood. Thank God, Grimmauld Place is to the north from here. It's not too far. Yes, on my own. What have I not done on my own? It seems hard to do anything together with anyone now. Like sitting and eating and sleeping together. And listening to instructions and warnings. Don't show yourself at the window, in man form or dog form!

Should I learn to transform into something else, too? Who says you can become just the animal you are. I can learn it, on my own, and never let anyone know. They'd leave me alone finally, and I would be free. A bird perhaps. If I stayed this summer alone, I could practise.

Why does Dumbledore suddenly want to protect me? For the past year he knew that I was innocent. Maybe he had known it all the time. And after Peter had confessed and Snape had heard it, why didn't he force Snape to testify? Snape! I want to strangle him. Drown him. Or burn him to ashes. Poison him! Whatever. Or at least Dumbledore could have done what he is planning to do now. To find a place to hide me with the Fidelius Charm. It could be the new headquarters for the Order at the same time. But he could have hidden me a year ago, or at least when I got back from the south. Just found any decent room and charmed it. I could have sneaked out at times but hidden in there to sleep at least in the winter. Instead he suggested that I hide in a cave. I guess he himself never spent a winter night in a cave, not to mention a whole winter. Luckily I never lost my charm. I managed to spend the coldest months at Kathy's. I was better off than Remus.

But myself I never thought how things were with Remus. He kept sending my birds back begging to get together with me. He seemed so desperate somehow, though I wrote that I forgave him. Or rather that there was nothing to forgive. Just that he should have forgiven me for having not trusted him. I hadn't even known that he had been taking some wolfsbane potion at Hogwarts. When he had suddenly transformed, I should have left him alone and he would have not harmed anybody, just caught Peter alive. But what Remus kept writing to me made me feel he was after me. I told him to stay where he was. I would have been spotted, if I moved around with my old friend. Why did Dumbledore also order him to stay in London but didn't take care of him?

He really should have gone to the south, where he had spent so many years. Yes, he at least had been free. All those years when I was locked up in... in that... empty... emptying misery of my mind... all those years he had been free. Though he had lost everyone and owned nothing, he had still had himself. He had even made art – can you imagine, art! Though he wrote that it had just been in order to sell a picture to get some money for a proper meal. That he had never been able to paint a portrait after

Why did he write all those long letters this past year? And I read them all and not just once. Though sometimes I stopped and threw the parchment away. I couldn't stand it. He had done so many things, been to so many places. It's not his fault. He'd had a life, while I had been almost dead for twelve years. There was no end to his memories. He seemed to write the letters while waiting for a note, and he sent a whole autobiography as a response every time. What could I have written to him? What could I have said to him, if we had met? So I just told him to stay where he was. I didn't tell him where I was. And he never really told me how he was doing.

Until finally, late in the winter, he only wrote on the back side of my note that he had no parchment or ink left. Then it was time to leave Kathy. I couldn't stand her anymore either. And time to get closer to Harry, as the news from Hogwarts were alarming. I thought the weather would get warmer soon and I could stay in that cave. That's when I decided to go through London and surprise Remus. I knew he was somewhere in this neighbourhood. I didn't mind spending a few days as a stray, though it was still really cold.

It was great to be free. I really needed it after Kathy and before meeting him. So even when I found him – saw him come out of this building – I didn't show myself. I had to get used to the idea of talking to him. From a distance I thought he didn't look the same as in the Shrieking Shack.

But even my dog form was startled by his despair, when he rushed to hug me. He looked terrible. And he was crying and trembling with cold. I'd been waiting long enough on that icy pavement and I wanted to get in quickly. He could hardly open the door and climb up the stairs. I didn't dare to transform until in this room.

It was unbearably cold in here then. Otherwise the same as now. No furniture really. He conjured a couch and soon let me sit down. He's always been so fond of hugging. I didn't have to feel ashamed of my looks in front of him, though I had left the clothes Kathy had given to me and got dressed in my old rags again. His clothes were a bit better, but he looked terribly gaunt. The bowl of fake soup he offered to me warmed my front paws nicely, like his makeshift heating system my back paws. And it smelled better than anything I'd had for... well, fourteen years. Kathy never really learnt to cook. So I was honest praising it, as I had just eaten some waste in my dog form and wasn't really that hungry. But he looked so miserable that I guessed he had not eaten anything the whole day, and he started to cry. I just hoped he could have joined in my joke. What had become of us, the top students, the Marauders! But he cried. He tried to hide it, but he didn't succeed very well. From that I knew that his situation was really desperate.

He had always been good at hiding his suffering. It's a miracle we had ever even found out about his lycanthropy. And after his parents had died and he had been deprived of his inheritance and denied any chance for decent income, he had usually managed to hide the fact that he had very little money. I had often forgotten about it, but James... James... had always remembered to take care of Remus and managed to do it without embarrassing him much.

He didn't want to show his misery even now, but he had no strength left, and I saw right through him. I started talking about Harry and the Triwizard Tournament. He had not heard all the news I had. I asked him why he had not kept in touch with Harry, in the way I had, though I had been far away. He had been Harry's teacher for almost a year until our encounter in the Shrieking Shack. In his letters he had asked me if I had heard from Harry, and he had written it was good I kept in touch. Now he explained that he wanted to leave my godson for me. And he started blaming himself again for my need to continue to hide. I said it was all Snape's fault, or even Dumbledore's. Or Voldemort's. Not his. I couldn't stand being forced to comfort him. And then he started begging me to stay or take him with me.

I soon said I was tired, and we went to bed. But he insisted that we sleep together. I couldn't object, because it was really cold in here and he had only one blanket. He had all his clothes on but he kept shivering terribly. I realized that he had fever and it was rising. He wanted to hold me tight in bed, and only then did he seem to notice how thin my rags were, and he offered to take off his cloak and give it to me. I could have taken it and slept alone, but I felt so bad for him I refused and let him spread both the cloak and the blanket on the two of us, and I agreed to stay so close to him.

It felt actually nice that his feverish body was so hot against my back. But then he put his hand on my shoulder and started caressing me. I moved a bit and hoped he would stop. I didn't want to snap at him or to get up. Or I wanted to, but his hot trembling hand was so pathetic. Then I realized it was moving to touch my bare skin in the spots where I had holes in my rags. I felt I had to stop him. But he found the longest rip on my sleeve and he pulled it closed the best he could and left his hand there. So I didn't say anything or move any more. But I don't think I slept much.

After he had fallen asleep I transformed to Padfoot the dog, and soon I broke free from his embrace. Having transformed back to a man to be able to think more clearly, I sat next to him shivering myself, even after I had taken his wand and fixed that radiating jar, which gave some warmth. I remember how his face looked. And how angry I suddenly was at myself, because I had just felt irritated by him since the previous summer and until that night, up to that moment.

Only now did I realize that this was not the first day he had nothing at all to eat, but he must have gone hungry for a long time. Even as a school boy he had never been in a really good health, because the painful transformations had consumed his strength. Before the rest of us had become Animagi to help him not to lose his human mind completely in his wolf form, he had even wounded himself every month. On the other hand, he had always had an enormous appetite as well as appreciated the culinary pleasures. James had pointed out to me that it was especially hard for Remus to be so poor to be forced to skip meals.

When I had seen him after twelve years in the Shrieking Shack, he had looked older than I could have expected, but healthy and well-nourished. But at that time he had been enjoying the comforts of Hogwarts. And because he had transformed outside after we had got Peter, he had decided to leave his position, even before the governors of the school had got the chance to sack him. Still, it had been Snape's fault that the students and their parents had found out that he was a werewolf, so it would have been no use if Dumbledore had tried to persuade him to stay. And he had been too proud to ask Dumbledore to arrange another job for him.

Even in all those intimate letters he had never revealed to me that he was starving. But I could see it in his sleeping face, though I was spared from again looking into those eyes, which had been gleaming of tears and fever that evening. His warm amber tender eyes, which had always been so thoughtful and twinkling in half hidden amusement. Those eyes had looked too big that evening, with shadows underneath. His sleeping face was utterly pale with some red of the fever burning on his sunken cheeks. Despite the lines drawn by years of grief and deprivation, he still looked vulnerable like a child. Maybe partly because he evidently still shaved carefully. He had never liked facial hair – for obvious reasons, as he had pointed out as a young man. He had laughed and said that he wanted to preserve the contrast between his two forms. His eyebrows were perhaps bushier than before, but that was not too striking, as they were not quite dark. He had allowed his hair to grow long in the style I used to have since my youth, but unlike mine his was soft. And his hair had partly greyed, losing the golden shine of its light brown colour, so it made him look ever gentler, like an angel. I was really getting sentimental at that moment.

I sat there freezing and staring at his face. I'm normally not perceptive and sensitive like that. That's what he has always been like, as far as I have ever known him. He can see the beauty in everything, and he's able to both analyze why it's beautiful and to represent it again and in even several forms, in language and in a painted image. It's thanks to him expressing his thoughts eagerly to even an impatient person and a lousy listener like me, if I'm ever able to formulate such thoughts in my mind. But now his face, evoking all this heartrending emotion based on a true tragedy – and no foolish art, which I never learnt to appreciate – inspired me to ponder over all that before acting.

Still looking at his mouth, I surprised myself by my ability to realize why I felt like crying. The lines around his mouth seemed to convey bitterness. And yet, there was still something left of that enthralled look of wonder, with which he had always faced the world. And of that wary concern, with which he had treated all his fellow creatures, doing his best never to hurt anyone or to do injustice to anyone. No matter how much injustice he'd met himself, he still continued to blame himself for everything. There was something too good and too beautiful about that expression for a man, or even for a human.

I shook myself to get out of these thoughts and to warm up my body a bit. He's certainly always a human for me, a full human and more, if possible, though I'm so foolish not to always remember to appreciate everything in him. And he is definitely a man for me, too. I could not sleep with him. And I know there will be enough of a man in him to help himself, if he can be made to understand that some laws must be broken, at least in some circumstances. That night I could not force him to act but I had to do it alone in order to show him an example. And most of all in order to get something for him to eat.

Using his wand I heated some water to drink. I checked that he was covered well with the cloak and the blanket. Then I apparated to the street and transformed to Padfoot the dog.

I ran quite a long way to the other side of the neighbourhood – not towards Grimmauld Place. This area is one of the largest hidden regions in London, and still not so famous, because its inhabitants are regarded as mob. But that is exactly why it must be so large. The poor wizards, and persecuted minorities like different half-breeds and non-humans and squibs, who have for some reason decided to live or ended up living among wizards – the mob, they are always the majority. I think the area even has no official name. The squibs, half-breeds and non-humans have now been ordered to put up a sign on their stores to show what they are. That is clearly unfair especially for squibs. Everybody can now recognize those stores which are the least likely to have any magical security system at all. The mob is too far from united for any magical creatures to help the squibs in this.

When I had arrived in the less poor area, which was quite familiar to me, because Remus had rented an apartment there before his parents had died, I tried to quickly choose the most suitable grocery store. Remus has this effect on me. I become too considerate. I didn't want to cause damage to somebody who already had financial problems, but a wealthier looking store was more likely to have security.

I ended up being my reckless self – which was not too hard, as I was still in dog form when making up my mind. After transforming to a man, I apparated into a grocery store which had attracted me by what it seemed to offer. It had a separate section with baking ovens and even a barbeque grill. I felt no magic affecting me, and I quickly found a sack emptied of flour. With no bad conscience I collected some barbecued chicken and bread. Such stuff couldn't have been sold for the full price on another day. But I thought I might not succeed in persuading Remus to start stealing, so I needed to get something that would feed him for a longer time. I went to the actual grocery store and collected quite a lot of other stuff. Before leaving I couldn't resist writing a quick note: "Sorry, I should have robbed those who deserve it for sure. But I had no time to figure out how to do it. What I took is for a good person who's been starving for too long."

When I had apparated straight back to the room, I saw at once that Remus was awake, though there was hardly any light of dawn yet. He looked more awful than before if possible. He was lying in foetus position and staring at me without moving even his head, and his eyes were brimming with tears. I couldn't stand it. I was afraid I would start crying, too. For a passing moment I wondered if he would even have the strength to stand up, but I thought it was worth giving it a try.

So I slammed the sack on the board which he had put up as a desk, stepped to him, and avoiding his eyes I just pulled the covers from him, wrapped them around myself and jumped in, pushing him out of the bed. To my relief he got up. I was so happy to see his immediate reaction to the food that I think I got the playful tone in my voice, ordering him to make breakfast and to let me have my share of sleep, until it would be ready. As he even managed to start interrogating me, I felt so good I honestly couldn't help grinning, though I closed my eyes. I heard him prepare some tea, heat the chicken and conjure chairs. By the time I joined him at the table he'd already taken a bite of something and didn't look too pathetic. He even joined in my play, and as far as I remember he made a better joke than I did. Yes, we pretended to be back at school. I think I can remember exactly how we started it.

- What do we have today? I asked when sitting down. - Transfiguration and Care of Magical Creatures? I'm afraid I've skipped a few classes, but I shouldn't have problems in Transfiguration, if I could just get my wand back.

He actually grinned and replied at once:

- Was it taken from you in your detention? You can borrow mine. But you must help me with my Care of Magical Creatures essay. I thought I learnt enough about werewolves in DADA, but now we're supposed to write about how to feed them. What do they actually eat?

- Let's make an experiment. Do they drink pumpkin juice? I said and filled a glass for him.

He's so clever and honest. He wasn't ashamed to refer to the fact that he needed me to feed him. But he knew that I'd have felt more embarrassed than him, if he'd got sentimental about it. Having started to fill his stomach, he was able to control the expressions of his own emotions again, and to my relief he didn't cry any more. But contrary to his usual habits, he didn't interrupt me with any thoughtful analyzing, when I lectured to him about the need to defy the law. Just at first when I told him that I had robbed a store, he tried to scold at me.

- What is this interrogation? I said. - Are you not going to say thank you! No, just kidding. You could have come to get it yourself with me, but you looked tired and it was easier not to be spotted, when I was alone.

- What do you mean? Did you...?

He gasped, and I felt like exaggerating my calmness and pride when replying:

- Yes, I robbed a grocery store. And a bakery.

- You... you are not serious!

- Yes, that's who I am! I thought you knew me.

I think I captured the playful tone which this ancient joke deserves, but I tried my best to look into his eyes sagely for a moment. He seemed too upset to realize what I meant.

- But, ser... honestly, you can get caught, if you do something like that! You must not attract attention in any way. And you have enough trouble even without becoming a criminal!

- Don't worry so much, Remmy! What difference does it make if someone stigmatized like me – or you – commits a minor crime like this one. Seriously, you must stop respecting the law so much.

I meant he should have known I was the person to seriously do something to help him. Though I felt guilty I had not been and probably would not be conscientious in taking care of him. Not like James. But I also meant he had to find new ways of doing it himself.

I remember I even talked about Peter deserving death but not something worse – not what I had been through... Nobody deserves that. And Remus didn't interrupt me. I told him he must oppose the injustice in this society. And I said he had to be ready to do it on his own. I would be on my way.

I left on the same day. And despite the food and the lecture I had given him, I felt it was horribly heartless to leave him. He was even ill. He would never have left his friend like that. I should have dared to take care of him. And I could have even tried to tell him... I could try to tell him now how I'm empty and aching and I don't know why. He might understand me better than Kathy did. Though to Kathy also I had tried to talk only when I knew she was sleeping. I just couldn't stand it.

I didn't even go straight to Hogsmeade. I thought it must still have been too cold up there, and I spent a few days as a stray around the area of London. Then I remembered Barbara. She was upset enough not to know how to throw me out for a whole week. I've never felt ashamed to ask for food and shelter, or rather just take it. Even in my first letter to Harry from the cave I simply asked him to bring food, and a lot.

To Remus I sent an owl before leaving Barbara's. But I think he replied only to the one I sent from the cave. He had gone to look for work in the muggle London, when it had got warm enough to wear only a t-shirt with jeans, as he had no other muggle clothes.

That's where he still works, whenever he finds something. He says it's easier where no one can imagine that he could be other than a human. Though without a muggle identity card he can have only illegal contracts for a day or two. And he's hardly good at what the muggles expect from a worker. Well, I guess in all those years, when I had no life, he learnt a lot about the muggle life, too. But he doesn't like it that much. And he admits he's never been good at any practical tasks. Though I can't really see the value of art, I suggested he paint and sell his art. But he says he needs money for some paint and a canvas first, and he never has enough. He still hasn't paid all the debts of his rent. Life seems to be easier for a dog or a prisoner.

In the wizard world they've become stricter about checking everyone's identity and breed. They've even adopted that I.D. card system from the muggles. It's crazy. Things have certainly changed since the first defeat of Voldemort. I've started to doubt it's all been to the better. And I'm tired of skulking in the shadows. We shall show them soon who we are.

The End.

_Written by PaulaMcG in January 2004._

_Disclaimer:  
Any character names and place names appearing in the Harry Potter books, as well as any parts of Harry Potter book plots that I refer to, belong to J. K. Rowling and those who have bought the rights. Towards the end of the story there is a paraphrase from Paul Simon's "America" of 1968. The rest is mine but brings me no profit either._


End file.
